


Chicken

by unexpectedbeautifulfanfic



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-28
Updated: 2017-11-28
Packaged: 2019-02-07 21:45:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12850146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unexpectedbeautifulfanfic/pseuds/unexpectedbeautifulfanfic
Summary: Spike stops by to visit Buffy at her work. As usual, sparks fly, and Buffy deals with her own demons regarding her and Spike's past relationship.





	Chicken

“Are you kidding me? A “large, super-straight looking "Lone Ranger" type”? Here? I hate to break it to you, Spike, but around here, we don’t get many boys of the uh, straight variety.” Buffy balanced the serving tray on one hand, and motioned around the diner with the other.

Spike laughed, his left eyebrow lifting in unison, and shook his head. Buffy’s heart skipped a tiny beat. 

She mentally cursed herself. Spike had only just begun to start stopping by regularly - she liked it, and she didn’t want to scare him off. Last thing she wanted was him suspecting that her feelings for him had returned.

Thankfully, he seemed to distracted to notice. 

“Buffy, you’re missing the point,“ he leaned in and continued, “man goes by the name of Garth, and believe me, he’s not the poofter type. He‘s strong - a witch, maybe stronger than you - he’s the leader of a group that wants to kill you, and he knows his way around this city.” He scanned the room, mentally taking in whether it was safe to say what he did next; “He‘s been looking for you, Buffy. He knows who you are.” 

The word “knows” was punctuated with such a thick assumption that Buffy stopped and put her tray down on the countertop, her head turning towards him, her green eyes searching his blue ones for more information. 

He really could still speak to her with his eyes, couldn’t he? 

“Looking for me? He knows I‘m the Slayer and where I work?” she managed to clarify, setting the tray down on the counter, the milkshakes sitting atop it teetering dangerously, the whip cream falling and sliding down the sides of the glass.

Spike nodded gravely. Buffy sighed. She nodded to the other waitress, who smirked at her, and walked towards the storage room, Spike following her. She shut the door. And there, with her back against a pile of brooms, and Spike facing her, one hand on the wall behind her, arm brushing hers, and starting to explain, his head tilted away from the door and towards her in an effort to keep their conversation inconspicuous, the flash happened, too quick for her to push it away as she had so often had to do lately -

__

_Stop trying to see me. And stop calling me that.  
_ _So, um…what should I call you then? Pet? Sweetheart? My, uh…little goldilocks? You know I love this hair. The way it bounces around when you -_

She cringed when she remembered what she’d done. He'd touched her - right in the middle of the kitchen, geez! - and yet even though she'd wanted-it-so-bad, she’d pushed him away... and that stupid pancake analogy...

“Damn it, Buffy” she said before she could stop herself.

Buffy tensed up, shaking off the flashback, regaining her focus, and involuntarily stepped back. 

Why was it that, now, after everything - that every damned thing he did - reminded her what he used to do to her? 

Spike, sensing her hesitation, immediately stepped back, shoving his hands in his pockets, muttering his apologies about “crowding” her, but it was too late. Buffy, her head suddenly throbbing, the past rushing in at her, desperately unable to stand one more moment that close to him, ran outside.

“Spike…just, give me a second. I feel kinda sick.”

-

Outside the door, next to the dumpster, Spike found Buffy leaned against it. 

“Buffy? Are you…ok, love?”

Buffy scolded herself. Get yourself together, she thought. Least thing she wanted was Spike knowing that she having weirdo fantasy-flashbacks around him.

“What’s wrong, luv?” Spike pressed, his hand cupping her shoulder and gently turning her towards him.

“Nothing. I’m fine. Just overheated, I guess” - she sounded fake even to herself, and taking on Slayer Stance - hands on hips and face tilted to the side, asked “what were you saying about this demon? Gerth? I knew that name sounded familiar, in fact, I think I saw a larger guy in here the other day. Well, he wasn’t very large, more like burly and…hairy. And in fact, now that I think about it, I think he said that he was here for a “Bear” contest, which I had no idea what he was talking about, but it probably had something to do with hunting, so he couldn’t have been the guy you’re looking for, because witches don’t hunt as far as - 

Spike cut her off before she made a complete fool of herself, and stepping back, asked so quietly she wasn‘t sure she‘d heard him right, 

“It was a flashback, wasn’t it?”

Buffy's heart skipped a beat, knowing for sure he knew about her feelings for him, how she thought about what he used to do to her, playing it over and over in her head...

“No..No! It was a….uh, I’m just a little low blood-sugar, that’s all…actually, do you have some candy? I could really use it, long shift and all…” 

Buffy was rambling, she knew it, but any amount of this was worth postponing how embarrassing it would be once Spike admitted he knew she’d been fantasizing about him.

Spike, sweeping his duster below him, sat down on a few empty milk crates that were sitting beside the dumpster. Looking down, he uttered the most unexpected of words, 

“I’m so sorry Buffy, I didn’t know you still had those - I thought…” his voice trailed off, and he looked up at her, 

“I thought you’d stopped having those long ago. I should go.” 

For a second, Buffy was confused. Then she realized. 

He was referring to that day in the bathroom.

“What? No…no! That’s history. I’m over it. Totally. I know you didn’t mean too…,“ she shook her head, “that wasn’t it…” She tried to smile, but it came out crooked. Spike, unconvinced, continued to stare at her.

“It…wasn’t? You just…I remember that same look on your face the day I came back...the first time we saw each other since I got my…my, soul.” 

Was it her imagination, or did he say that last word with a hint of strain, as if the utterance of that very word reminded him of the pain he had endured to receive it?

“No Spike, really, I’m fine. Just tired. Double shift and all that.” Spike, having seemingly stared at her to his satisfaction, stood. He looked defeated. She knew he didn’t believe her. But how could she convince him otherwise without admitting to him how she felt?

“In fact, I should go, I left those milkshakes on the counter, and I have more orders I’m sure.“ 

Chicken. That's what she was.

“Ok, well, I guess I’ll let you get back to the daily grind then. Listen, if you need anything, give me a ring.” His hand brushed his coat pocket. “Your sis gave me a phone, so I could you know, keep in touch with you more easily about business. You know, to inform you of big baddies and whatnot, I suppose.” 

“Thanks, Spike.” 

When she looked up, he was gone, his leather-clad back disappearing behind the corner.

Buffy felt that familiar twinge in her chest - the one she felt everytime Spike left a room. It was like he took a part of her with him when he left a room.


End file.
